


downtime

by jholtzmann



Category: Better Call Saul (TV)
Genre: F/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:33:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29838843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jholtzmann/pseuds/jholtzmann
Summary: He can feel her shoulders shift, relaxing slightly against the support of the door. And God, if anyone deserved to relax a little it was Kim. Jimmy couldn’t count how many late nights he’d witnessed her spending in this ridiculous shoebox of an office, and he was confident she’d spent more than that.Kim works too many late nights and deserves some downtime.
Relationships: Jimmy McGill | Saul Goodman/Kim Wexler
Comments: 12
Kudos: 24





	downtime

The windowless office is so perennially dark with it’s tiny square of fluorescents that it’s impossible to tell what time of day it is. Impossible to tell that outside of its cramped walls it’s well past the end of the work day, the rest of the offices emptied of suited figures and the sound of trilling phones and clacking keyboards. But inside Kim’s office the fluorescent square buzzes in the ceiling, weakly illuminating nothing, and her desk lamp glares brightly at her empty chair, the screensaver darkening the computer. Nestled in the darkness at the far reaches of the room, Jimmy’s back is pressed against the closed door, Kim’s body warm against him, soft lips moving with his. 

Jimmy’s hand is at her side, along the curve of her ribs. He pushes there, turning them until it’s Kim’s back against the door. Her hand disappears from his cheek as she slings her arm over his shoulder. The weight of it presses lightly into the soft dip of his shoulder as she lets it dangle there for a second. Then her hand is back in his hair, sliding up from the nape of his neck towards his crown. She hums against his lips, low and content, and her fingertips flex against his scalp, warm points of pressure locking him in place. Jimmy responds to the touch, pressing closer, deepening the kiss, listens to her sharp intake of breath as he does. 

He can feel her shoulders shift, relaxing slightly against the support of the door. And God, if anyone deserved to relax a little it was Kim. Jimmy couldn’t count how many late nights he’d witnessed her spending in this ridiculous shoebox of an office, and he was confident she’d spent more than that. Probably early mornings, too. He’d definitely missed her in the parking garage more than a few times, and he’d bet a weeks wage that she’d skipped at least a couple lunches. The thought made a white hot rage spark in his chest. All this work, above and beyond, to impress people who weren’t even looking. 

He squeezes her hip, firm, even pressure just above the bone, and she makes a noise at the back of her throat. It’s a soft, brief sound, almost a moan. And then her hand is slipping through his hair as he sinks to his knees and out of her grasp. He kisses her clothed abdomen, his hands sliding up the outside of her thighs, pushing up the fabric of her skirt an inch before her hand clamps around his shoulder.

“Jimmy,” she looks down at him without the decency to even look flushed, though her voice is a touch lower than normal. What’s left of her lipstick is smudged out across her lower lip, a soft bruised pink. And her blouse sits slightly askew, the collar pulling to one side. Her breathing is all that really gives her away – the heavy rise and fall of her chest. She shakes her head, “Not here.” 

His eyes dart to the desk chair. 

Kim scoffs at him. “Not _in the office_.”

“My car is downstairs,”

“That gave me a crick in the neck.” She rolls her head back against the door, eyes grazing the ceiling before returning to him.

“I could take you home,”

Her brows draw together slightly. A moment of confusion. She had clearly not considered going home. Jimmy can tell she feels obliged to stay, even at this hour, but something flickers in her eyes. 

He tentatively presses a kiss to the inside of her thigh. “C’mon, Kim. You deserve some downtime.” 

Jimmy sees her look across to the desk, the lamplight glinting in her eyes. He resumes the slow upward movement of his hands under her skirt to draw her attention back. And he watches the rise and fall of her chest, still giving her away, even as she tucks her bottom lip between her teeth and thinks. She looks back down at him, and he places a kiss just below the waistline of her skirt, pink lips on blue fabric. He thinks he can feel her heartbeat through the layers. And Kim sighs, sweet and soft. Were he not pressed so close he might have missed it. 

“I just have to finish something up first.” 

“Isn’t that supposed to be my line?” 

She swats his shoulder. “Shut up. Get up,” she wriggles out from under him and makes her way to the desk, adjusting the hem of her skirt back down. 

Jimmy doesn’t get up, just swivels around to fall backwards against the door, folding his legs up and resting his wrists on his knees. 

“So what’s so important you gotta resist _this_?” He gestures to himself, up and down, though Kim doesn’t look round. 

“Huh?” She’s not listening. “It’s nothing, just, uh…” and the last of her attention fades from him as she zeros in on the screen in front of her, bathing her face in blue light. 

He lets time pass, tries to reach out his hearing to listen for the second hand of a clock somewhere, ticking away. He can’t remember if there’s one in the office, obscured at the top of one of the darkened walls, and he can’t be bothered looking around to find out. Instead he watches Kim, leaning over the back of her desk chair in a show of keeping the task quick. In the spotlight of the screen he can see her eyes darting back and forth, she clicks through whatever it is, taps out a few notes, keeps clicking. 

“You got one more minute, Wexler,” Jimmy says, glancing up from his watch. 

“Yeah,” she waves a distracted hand at him. 

“You’re gonna give yourself a backache if you keep this up. Can’t you just finish it Monday?”

“Mhmm,” and she’s still not listening, scrolling through something else now. 

“Kim.” 

“I hear you, Jimmy. One sec.” 

He looks at his watch again. “Okay. You’ve got thirty.” 

“Don’t even need it.” And finally after a couple more clicks she turns away from the computer, the screen once again dark. “Done. Let’s go.”

“Alrighty!” Jimmy jumps up from the floor, stumbling in his haste, and grabs for the door handle. “Let’s go!” 

* * *

  
They walk at a casual pace through the parking garage, keeping their hands to themselves, as though there would be anyone around to see them at this time of night. The performance breaks as they get to Jimmy’s car, standing too close, and Jimmy says again, “C’mon, let me drive you.”

“Jimmy I’m not leaving my car here,”

“I’ll drive you back in the morning, or I can drive that instead,”

“Jimmy. It’s fine. Plus,” her eyes fall to the dusty yellow Esteem, “if both of us get in there I don’t think much driving will get done.” 

Jimmy’s brows shoot up. He looks at her, eyes dark and twinkling, irises blown wide, a smile only showing itself through the tightness at the corner of her lips. And before he can lean down to place a kiss right above it Kim moves back, smiles more fully and says in a low voice, “See you at your place,” before ducking away to her own car, leaving him standing there, dumbfounded. 

* * *

  
Somehow she gets there before he does. 

When he pulls up she’s already leaning against her car smoking a cigarette. As he walks over to her she holds it out to him but he moves past her outstretched arm, instead fitting one hand to her waist and his lips to her throat. She tips her head back and he can feel her exhale under his mouth, the muscles pulling taut in her neck. Her free hand scrunches up into his hair, pulling almost painfully at the roots. He groans and grips her waist tighter, pulling her towards him. 

“Jimmy,” it’s breathless and smells of smoke. “Inside.” She instructs, and drops the cigarette by her side, crushing it underfoot. 

* * *

The door closes with more force than intended as they fall back against it, and it’s like no time has passed. Kim’s arms are around his neck again as he kisses her slowly, her teeth grazing his bottom lip, and all that’s different is that now she tastes like smoke. He licks into her mouth, her tongue feels red hot against his, and he imagines her taking a drag from her cigarette, pulling it away from her lips and kissing him, letting the smoke billow into his mouth. And he presses closer, feels her moan into the kiss and he swallows it down. 

One of her hands is clutching at his upper arm, her nails biting through his shirt. The other is holding his jaw, he can tell that her fingertips must be white with the pressure of it, pulling him tighter against her, crushing their lips together between clashing teeth. 

Jimmy reaches down, shoulders sloping as he searches for the hem of Kim’s skirt. He fumbles with it for a second before finding purchase against the fabric, dragging it up until he can place both palms flat against the back of her thighs and hoist her up around his waist. She makes a tiny noise against his lips, a small squeak as she’s jolted upward. As her hips settle down onto his Jimmy feels a heavy breath pass over his cheek and it is a breath that seems content and hungry all at once. 

She wiggles against him as she kicks her shoes off, and his hips buck up at the sensation, eliciting a little puff of a moan from her as her back slides further up the door. And then something that, mid-exhale, sounds close to a laugh. He takes the opportunity of her lips breaking away from his, peppers her neck with kisses before moving them across the small room, over to his bed. He sinks a knee into the mattress, leaning forward to lay them down, and then they’re tumbling together, limbs knocking into each other and breathy laughter filling the space. 

They wriggle up the bed, Kim’s hands curling into the shoulders of his shirt and pulling. He takes a moment too long as he tries to get his shoes off and feels his shirt coming untucked from his belt, the collar reaching his ears.

“Alright, alright,” he’s laughing as he moves up, snagging the edge of her blouse as he goes, pulling it from her skirt as he slides his hands under the fabric and up along soft skin, up until his fingers are tracing the outline of her bra and her chest is arching up and into his touch. Then her hands are reaching down for his belt, swift and sure, and soon Jimmy’s pants are off, leaving him in his boxers and rapidly disappearing shirt. 

* * *

Their foreheads are pressed together, panting breaths filling the small humid space between them. Jimmy feels it across his chest. Watches golden strands of Kim’s hair flicker, caught in tiny eddies of breath.

He can feel it when her brow pinches against his, little furrows as the rest of her body begins to tense. And her breathing is even shallower now, coming hard and fast as the pressure builds to breaking point. Jimmy keeps moving even as his hips begin to stutter, and then Kim is rolling her hips up towards him and the wave hits them both. He groans her name into the soft skin of her neck as she throws her head back, pressed hard into the pillow as she gasps out a strangled moan.

Her legs are still locked around him and he can feel her still moving, the undulation of her hips beneath him. Then pinching fingers at his jaw, dragging him away from her neck and into a hard kiss.

Her heels dig into the small of his back and with the waning energy he has left he hitches his hips, twists them just a little as he grinds down. Kim gasps his name into his mouth, says it again and again, barely audible moans as she grips his face, her heartbeat thrumming hard against his bare chest.

* * *

They lie in the afterglow, catching their breath at first, Jimmy’s head resting against Kim’s chest, her collarbone rising and falling against his cheek. They had managed to kick the covers down until Jimmy could grab the edge of the sheet, awkwardly pulling it half over them. He tries to yank it up over his shoulder so it covers Kim too, not wanting her to get too cold. But she doesn’t seem to mind. Her breathing is slowly evening out, and her right hand is tracing aimless shapes into the back of his hair. 

When he feels sleep starting to weigh on him he pulls back, thinks that this might be the moment, that as he looks down at her, hair splayed across his pillow, she’ll make a move to get up. He won’t stop her, as much as he wants to convince her to relax, to take some time – a Friday night of all things – for herself. But he’s looking down at her, and her hand, fallen from his hair, now makes circles against his bicep. And she’s watching him with a content kind of neutrality, waiting to see what he’s doing. There’s no question, no apprehension. She just tracks his movements, watches him watching her as his eyes wander down the paths made by her hair across the pillow, get pulled back to her lips, pink from his mouth, no lipstick remaining now. The rise and fall of her chest is gentle and even, no longer creating shallow puffs of breath. 

He looks to her eyes and she blinks up at him. Something like a smile is tucked into the corners there. Or maybe it’s just the light. Pale gold flecks glitter in her eyes and it makes his dingy apartment feel deliberate. Like it’s the way it is so she can shine in the middle of it. 

Only a few seconds pass. Then Jimmy shifts his weight, rolling to the side so he is no longer on top of her, trying to twist the sheet along with him. Kim’s eyes follow him, her hair rustling against the pillow as she turns her head to keep him in her vision. Then she’s moving too, hands helping to untangle the sheet and smooth it over them as she nestles into his side. Her warmth beside him and the weight of sleep slow everything down and he’s not sure when he slips into unconsciousness.  
  


* * *

  
When he wakes up she’s still beside him. 

“G’morning.” Kim turns slightly so she can see him better. 

“You’re awake,” Jimmy shoves his head further into the pillow, keeping one eye open just a crack so he can see Kim’s small smile. She makes a little _mmm_ noise in the affirmative. “Why aren’t you up?” He realises too slow how that might sound. “I mean, I’m not _complaining_ –”

“Mm, you said I deserved some _downtime_.” She closes her eyes and makes a point of shimmying her shoulders deeper into the mattress. 

“You’re right. I did – and I meant it!” Jimmy flips back the covers and springs out of bed. He grabs a pair of boxers from the floor and pads into the kitchen. “Alright, you want breakfast?” He hears her shift in the bed as he opens the fridge and surveys the contents. 

When he looks round Kim is propped up against both pillows, sheet drawn up under her arms, looking at him with raised brows. “What’ve you got?”

“Uhh…” he turns back to the fridge. Leans across the counter to open a cupboard. “Looks like, coffee and, um… milk? Could do ya a nice glass of water?” 

A snort of laughter comes from the bed. “Don’t worry about it.” He’s sure she’s rolling her eyes.

“Hey, no – downtime includes breakfast. C’mon, I’ll make us some coffee and then we can grab… waffles? Pancakes? I don’t know, some eggs? Diner eggs and bacon, come on, can’t be beat!” His hands move with the words.

She hesitates. It’s one of her favourites, he knows.

“Kim, come on,” he slowly steps back towards the bed, “ _diner eggs and bacon_ ,” he sing-songs. He can tell she’s thinking about it. Maybe making the same calculation he has – how long since her last full meal? They should have ordered in something last night.

She’s biting her lip and looking up at him, and though there’s still the glint of a smile there eventually she shakes her head. It’s a small movement, but enough. She opens her mouth slightly as if to say something, but instead just quirks her bottom lip into a thin line. 

He nods. “Okay. Hey, that’s fine! We can work with that.” And he sets about making coffee for the two of them. Once it’s brewing he turns to the front door, realising at the last second that he’s still in just his boxers. Quickly he darts back to the bedroom to grab a t-shirt, and then is out the door, hearing a muffled _Jimmy! What –!_ as the door closes over behind him. 

When he gets back Kim pulls a hand away from her brow and looks over to him. “What the hell was that?” 

Jimmy holds up a little egg carton in his right hand. 

“What is this, The Dick Van Dyke Show?” 

“If it was I wouldn’t have had to knock on _two_ doors just to get a couplea eggs.” 

“You owe someone a _favour_ now?” It’s wry, a smile twisting into the corner of her mouth. 

“Hell no – I’ll just buy them some eggs.” He shrugs, heading to the stove. 

Jimmy pours two mugs of coffee and doles out two serves of steaming scrambled eggs – one on a quickly wiped down plate, the other in the last bowl pulled from the cabinet. There hasn’t been much chatter as he rattles around the small kitchen, and secretly he hopes Kim is allowing herself a little extra shut-eye. When he glanced across a couple of times she had sunk back down into the bed, pulling the covers up over her shoulder.

He heads back to the bed and waits for Kim to shuffle upright enough to grab the breakfast offerings of eggs and coffee. She takes a cautious sip of coffee as she cradles the bowl of scrambled eggs against a knee. 

When Jimmy returns with his own plate and mug, mattress sinking as he moves to sit cross legged in the middle of it, he realises Kim is in her bra again. She must have fished it from the sheets or the floor, wherever it had ended up, while he was haranguing his neighbours for eggs. He recalls pressing his lips to the pink line created by the band around her ribs. His eyes linger on the place where he knows it sits against her skin, hidden beneath the sheets. Kim’s arm cuts across his field of vision as she bring the coffee cup to her lips again, and it breaks his stare. He unconsciously mimics her, taking a sip from his own mug. 

Kim’s looking at him, her chin propped up in her hand, and he realises he’s not sure how long she’s been looking. His eyes refocus on hers and she smiles. Close lipped and small, but it makes the dim morning sun sparkle in her eyes. And God, this might be enough. Having her here in his bed, seeing the way she shines, making her feel good, and… well, and hopefully she knows. Maybe, he thinks, this is more than enough to live on. Safer, even. Empty shelves at breakfast would get old pretty fast. Kim deserves more than that. She’s still smiling at him, her eyes on his lips. 

She straightens up. “I have to go home.” Twisting around she sets her empty coffee cup next to the bowl on the bedside table.

“Yeah.” He points a finger, “straight home – not to the office.”

“Scouts honour.” But she’s already up, extricated from the sheets and searching for her remaining clothes, retracing their steps. 

Jimmy sets his cleared plate beside him and stretches back against the pillows, watches her get dressed. 

She tucks her blouse back into her skirt, considerably more creased than usual but still passable. “And you?”

“Hm?”

“What are you doing today?” 

“Oh. You know, the usual. Slam my head against a bunch of books and hope something sticks.” 

She snorts a laugh and shakes her head. “Just say the word, Jimmy,” it’s warm and earnest and almost disbelieving.

“When you’re already working late nights at HHM? No, Kim – you’ve already got enough on your plate.”

“Jimmy,” she tilts her head.

“I appreciate the offer – really. But no.” Then, a little softer. “Thank you.”

She just looks at him for a moment. There’s that shine of a smile in her eyes again, and something else, something a little raw, something he thinks he knows the word for, something that makes these nights and mornings, the touches and conversations, so easy. 

“Okay,” she says like they’ve just had a long goodbye. “I’ll see you later.” He sits up as she approaches, reaching out to brush a hand against his shoulder, a light squeeze. She drops a kiss to the corner of his mouth, his lips grazing her cheek.

“Yeah,” he says to her abdomen as she straightens up. 

Across the apartment she leans against the front door, palm pressed flat under the peephole as she slips her heels back on. 

“See you later,” he calls from the bed as he unnecessarily rearranges his empty plate, holding his coffee to his chest with his free hand. 

Kim throws one last smile over her shoulder as she’s half way out the door. “Have a good weekend, Jimmy.”


End file.
